


Sleeves

by rubberglue



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 23:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberglue/pseuds/rubberglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percival lacks sleeves and that disturbs Arthur greatly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeves

**Author's Note:**

> Some photos from the June shooting at Pierrefonds showed Gwen and Percival together. Amazingly, he had sleeves. And this crack fic was born.

It all started with a throwaway line by Mithian although obviously, Arthur didn’t think that there was anything throwaway about that line. After their non-marriage, Arthur was really not all that keen to invite her to Camelot again but Gwen had insisted. If he wanted to bring peace to the whole of Albion, she pointed out calmly, he couldn’t do so by pretending Mithian’s kingdom didn’t exist simply because the situation was awkward. And that was how it came to be that the four of them were chatting lightly during a celebration thrown in Mithian’s honour. And that was also how it came to be that Mithian made her fateful statement.

“I swear sometimes I look at your knights and I think Arthur must have chose them for their looks. You are a lucky queen.”

And Gwen had laughed. Laughed! And suddenly, she and Mithian were whispering and giggling and pointing at knights. He tried to listen in but all he received for his efforts were dirty looks.

“Arthur! You look troubled. Maybe some mead will cheer you up,” boomed Percival as he shoved a mug into Arthur’s hands. “If you’re worried about my new job, I swear to you I will let no harm come to Gwen.” Then he flexed his arms as if to make a point.

The only point Arthur got was that Percival needed sleeves. Images of Gwen running her hands appreciatively across Percival’s bare arms popped into his head. It did not help matters when he glanced at Gwen and Mithian and they were glancing at Percival and giggling some more. 

That night, despite Gwen’s urging to go to bed with her, he stayed up. He needed to make a list. Things were going to change in Camelot.

+

“A word Percival?” 

“Of course Arthur. As I said last night, I will lay down my life to keep Gwen safe.”

“I believe you. It’s uh, your armour.”

“My armour? Is there a problem?”

Of course there was a problem. Arthur almost rolled his eyes. “Well, it occurs to me that it doesn’t cover your arms.”

A frown marred Percival’s face. “And you’ve only just noticed?” The words come out slowly. confusion clear in his voice.

“No, of course not. I just think that for your own safety, you should cover them up.” That, Arthur thought, sounded sensible enough. 

Percival grinned and flexed his arms. Why did Percival have to keep doing that? It was disturbing. And no, it wasn’t because his own arms weren’t quite as - as sculpted. “No worries Sire! These babies of mine are tough. Feel them!”

“I’ll pass, thanks. Still one cannot be too careful. I will ask the blacksmith to make you some new armour with sleeves.”

“Sleeves.” Percival’s arms dropped and he stared suspiciously at Arthur. “I’ve not worn sleeves in years. They’re uncomfortable. I don’t think this is necessary really. I’ve done fine sleeveless these 3 years in your service.”

“And you should not continue to put your arms at risk then! Who knows when yet another war will befall us? Your arms are precious. You should keep them safe.” He tried to say the words as convincingly as he could, but he could tell that Percival was not buying anything he said. Honestly, he knew what Percival was thinking - Arthur had been busy signing peace and cooperation pacts over the past few months. If anything, there ought to be more peace now than before. And what was that nonsense about precious arms he decided to tack on at the end?

But Percival was, if nothing else, incredibly easy-going and amiable. “If it means that much to you, then I will wear the new armour.”

“Good man.” Arthur thumped Percival on the back, something he regretted the moment his fist made the connection with Percival’s toned back. As stoically as possible, without letting on how much his hand hurt, Arthur strode from the room. 

Up next would be Leon. That hair had to go.


End file.
